The Hospital
by kerylsmith
Summary: Just a piece of descriptive writing that has to be handed in xx please review in the next two weeks it would really help me to make it as good as I can xx


**Hi this is a piece of writing for my English description project I have to submit xx if you read in the next two weeks can you please review so I can make any changes before it's due. If you don't read in the next two weeks, ENJOY and feel free to review if you like xx THANK YOUUUUUUUUU :) :)**

A woman sits by the bed, the child's hand clutched in both of her own. The child on the bed is sleeping peacefully. Her mother is slumped against the side of the bed, head in an uncomfortable position on her arm. The window lets in the bright light of another beautiful day, the sky an electric blue, the clouds puffed up and fluffy, the birds chirping happily, as the tree lifts its branches and basks in the sun. The teenage boy crosses slowly to the window and listens to the birds for a couple of seconds; then slams the window shut, pulling the blinds and angrily storming back to the bedside, tears welling up in his eyes. How can they all be so happy when he is stuck in here, where he can hardly breathe from the tension suffocating them?

In the corridor, a busy doctor strolls briskly past, her forehead creased as she looks at another chart. She pauses at a door, listens for a moment, before entering. Walking leisurely in the other direction is an elderly couple, the woman pushing her husband's wheelchair. As they walk, the man tenderly reaches for her hand and smiles up at her adoring face. The brief moment of love ends, as the woman reclaims her hand to continue pushing the wheelchair along the corridor. The teenager in the room looks down at his little sister. She could have been that doctor. She could have been that woman, pushing her husband. But now she has no future. It has been ripped from her like a rattle from a small child.

He turns his head to look at the tangle of wires covering his sister. There's an IV needle, attached to a bag of water. Something in her nose to keep her body breathing. A small device rests near her hand, for if she wakes up and needs her pain medication. A big red button sits directly above her head, with 'CALL NURSE' written in capital letters underneath it. Various other wires connected to machines, that he has never bothered learning the names or uses of. But there's one, just one, which is the most important one of all. The wire connected to the pristine white machine. His eyes fix on the line scrolling across, measuring his sister's heartbeat. A steady beep issues from it, the only signal left that the broken girl on the bed is alive. The only thing that convinces him that she is fighting. The only thing that makes him think that she might survive this, she might get better. The only thing making him think that she could be that that doctor, that old woman, gazing at her perfect husband.

The girl on the bed is deathly pale, and you can see her bones protruding, through her arms, her legs and her face. The hospital gown is too big, swallowing her. Her legs are covered to the knee. Her head is completely bare. Someone, he suspects his mother, has tied a bright red bandana around it. It is now falling off the back of her head. His long, thin fingers tease it back onto her head; then he leans forward, and presses a loving kiss to her head. A single tear rolls down his cheek and lands on her lips. He gently strokes it, as tears now stream down his face, his sobs barely suppressed. The horrible choking sounds wake his mother, and she rushes to his side, whispering comforting words to him. She pulls her tired fingers through his knotted, curly hair, and rocks him gently back and forth.

His mother bends down to wipe the tears from his cheeks. She pulls his head to her chest, and clings tightly to him. In this moment, they both realise how much they need the other. This realisation is accompanied by a horrible, loud, continuous beep. Their heads shoot up as they rush to the bedside. Three nurses run into the room, wheeling a cart behind them. There are shouts, which neither of the two family members can hear nor make sense of, and then one nurse places two metal pads on the child's chest. Someone shouts 'Clear' then there is a bang, and the machine peaks, the body jerks, and then they both become immobile again. The three nurses repeat this process a further four times, clearly desperate for this girl's life to be saved. Then one steps back slowly. She shakes her head. 'Time of death . . .' This is all the teenager needs to hear. He wrenches the door open and sprints down the corridor, a steady stream dripping to the floor. People move out of his way, seeing the pain and despair in his eyes. His mother, still in the same position where he left her, slowly slides down the wall, sobs wracking her body, tears blinding her, finding it hard to breathe. Her daughter could still be sleeping. Her son bursts out of the main door, where his tears mix with the pouring rain. He throws his head back and screams at the grey clouds above his head. Then his mind decides to stop the pain, and he slumps to the floor.


End file.
